


A Fine Mess

by TheWanderingMuse



Series: All About Us [6]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Road Trips, Suspension Of Disbelief, Sweet Cruelty sequel, The Timeline is What I Say It Is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29150802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWanderingMuse/pseuds/TheWanderingMuse
Summary: "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win" - Stephen King.Katherine flees with Elena's prone body after breaking the hybrid curse and nobody has seen them since. Not even Caroline is privy to their whereabouts. Trouble looms near and caution disappears into the void when news of Klaus Mikaelson has been tamed. Sequel to Sweet Cruelty
Relationships: Caroline Forbes & Katherine Pierce, Caroline Forbes & Stefan Salvatore, Caroline Forbes/Katherine Pierce, Elena Gilbert/Katherine Pierce, Elena Gilbert/Others, Isobel Flemming & Katherine Pierce (past), Kol Mikaelson & Annabelle Zhu
Series: All About Us [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/52477
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. It's only the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So the prologue created is set right after Sweet Cruelty chapter 37 and spun this mini installment of which I don't know and never did any actual planning of chapters. It's all AU and the timeline doesn't quite follow TVD's canon of events. But if you have read the previous installment finale chapter, you'll know the details up to the breaking of the hybrid curse. That's all I will say for now.

What if this reality that we perceive is not what it seems? 

What if it’s not real? We’re only just imagining it, right? 

This feeling inside you in the dreams you dream, the people who pay a visit in them, the ventures you take, the places you go, the things you taste, even if they’re not real, you still feel every bit of them. 

Lefyser’s dreams took her back to her quaint decorated classroom. She’s sitting in her chair, grading a stack of papers. But as she reaches to turn the page, the papers sink into the desk and there’s this brunette sprawled over her lap, face down, naked from waist below, and squirming uncomfortably. Her hand would caress the naked rump, her fingers inching higher until they disappear between the soaking wet folds. Without conscious thought, she fingers this nameless girl until a moan breaks. 

A voice whispers in her ear, and her body does what it’s being told. It almost feels like a wet dream but the naked flesh feels so solid against her hold. The brunette’s hands reach back and spread those ample delightful ass cheeks while her legs fall open until Lefyser sees the faintest pink and what looks to be thin long stripes.

Her thumb traces the faint welts, ignoring the sharp gasps released. She murmurs, “Who did this to you?”

“You did.”

Her brow furrows in deep concentration but it’s like her brain has flipped the off switch because her mind draws a blank. 

She looks down and questions wonderingly, “What is your name?”

The girl doesn’t reply; she just stays put, hands still holding her cheeks. It’s… weird. Like it’s a dream and yet it doesn’t.  Odd, isn’t it? If it’s a dream, you could control how and which path to unfold. 

An unbidden thought rolls out and she finds herself asking aloud. “Are- are you my student?”

She’d almost dismiss it immediately when she’s met with silence. But the girl replies quietly, “Yes. Would you please vibe me?”

Maybe it's the shock. She doesn’t know... doesn’t understand…

She gives a hysterical laugh. “V-Vibe you? I- I don’t-”

“It’s in your second drawer to the right.”

True to her words, the sex toy which cannot possibly belong to her, sits innocently between the hole puncher and some colorful paper clips.

“This isn’t mine,” she protests as her fingers gingerly pick up the vibrantly red vibrator. The brunette doesn’t say anything else. Lefyser could feel her skirt getting wet; her eyes zoomed in on the source. It’s the nameless girl’s dripping arousal. 

Mind made up, her voice crackles as she comes to a decision. “If I asked you to get off my lap and show your face, would-”

The girl doesn’t even protest; she pushes herself off in a smooth motion and stands with her hands by her side, legs spread slightly apart. She could feel her lips dry. It’s the older Gilbert.

“I need you to vibe me,” Elena murmurs. Her eyes are glassy, staring vacantly back at Lefyser.

“Why can’t you do it?”

Elena shakes her head slightly in response. “Because I’m not allowed.”

“Who told you that?”

Elena sighs heavily and her gaze drops down to the vibrator on the desk. “The same person who’s in your head and who owns the toy.”

It’s too much to process it all. This is sodomization on one of her own students no less. If this gets out, she could lose her job, her license, everything.

“Would you please?” Elena pleads, and she notes there seems to be a layer of desperation coating those words.

She looks at the toy, her tongue darting out to wet her lips in a nervous quirk. “What happens if I don’t?”

Elena’s facial expression twitches slightly before replying, “You really don’t want to find out. You won’t like it. I promise.”

“Will she hurt you?”

Elena slowly nods and a chill overcomes her, hands trembling by her sides. Lefyser tries again. She whispers, “If you tell the principal-”

A harsh chortle escapes the brunette and she’s shocked by the high-pitched frequency. It doesn’t sound like Elena who grins toothily in sheer bitterness. Her admission throws her off. “She has him wrapped around her finger.”

Lefyser blinks and wonders. “How… do you-?”

Elena continues, “She had me sit on his desk in front of him whilst he stripped me bare and-”

The lilting voice nudges her to ask. Lefyser could feel an intense yearning to know more… and her hand rises on its own accord to her own horror, her fingers seek out the student’s shaved fleshy folds. The other hand picks up the vibrator off the desk and rubs the toy achingly soft against the poor girl’s exposed clit.

“Tell me more,” she more or less whispers.

Elena squeezes her eyes shut and she could have sworn a couple of droplets trickle down her cheek. “He kissed me and marked my nipples. His hands were on… my breasts. They trail down my stomach and then… he pinches me wide open.”

Her fingers slip past the slippery folds and pump into the achingly tight passage slowly. Her thumb finds the tip of the smooth ridges, switching on the vibrator. She presses the vibrating head against the nub more firmly until a low moan spills and the girl’s hips roll helplessly. 

“What else did he do?”

“He-” Elena hiccups, “He fingered me in my pussy and my ass.”

“Did he fuck you?” Her eyes are bloodshot, head shaking vigorously in denial. Lefyser eggs on, “Tell me… or I’ll just edge you until you leave a puddle.”

She whines like a bitch in heat, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, ivory cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Elena quietly replies, stammering as she relays her tale. “She… gave me a crop spanking… on- on my kitten. Made me cum until I was red and- and then she had- had me sit on his lap… with his fly open while she took photos.”

Her thumb rubs Elena’s exposed clit and is rewarded with a quiet gasp. She trades it for the toy, jamming it roughly against the over-sensitive nub. Elena’s breaths grow ragged, her hips moving back and forth with the slightest of motions. Every few seconds, another heavy gasp spills forth, completely at the mercy of a well-stimulated clit. Lefyser rubs it harder and soon enough, Elena’s hips buck violently against the vibrating head, her thighs quivering as she comes.

She places the vibrator back into the drawer, noting the thick viscous fluid trailing down the brunette’s inner thighs. She murmurs appreciatively, “What does she do with the pictures?”

“I- I don’t know,” the poor girl pants, trying to catch her breath. She’s lying slumped, pressed against Lefyser’s calves, her head rolling tiredly against the cold brass desk leg. The lilting voice grows stronger as though it has moved past her ear and has settled in the forefront of her blank mind. It squeezes past her hollow cheeks, guiding her tongue as her mouth follows the shapes, transforming syllables into an instruction. 

“Time for your inspection, pet.”

These aren’t her words. Someone - something else has taken the wheel.

Elena shakily rises from her stupor. “Yes, Mistress.” She says, her head ducks down in shame. Not-Lefyser intones, “Rest on your elbows on the desk, ass up, legs spread wide apart.”

Elena obeys without hesitation and Lefyser is treated to a full inviting view of her student’s slickness. Horror fills her gut, she can’t unsee what she’d never wanted to see… and yet, her own panties soak themselves with her own arousal. Dread churns nauseatingly in her stomach until it’s impossible to tell one from the other.

Not-Lefyser’s palm strikes against the flushed pinkish flesh, causing sharp startled yelps as the exposed clit takes the full brunt. Pearly white liquid sneaks out of Gilbert’s entrance, trickling down the quivering toned thigh. Not-Lefyser dips her finger in to smear it all over the girl’s glistening folds. “You’re soaking, dirty girl.”

Another brunette enters her classroom, her strides deliberate and purposeful, as she sashays towards Elena Gilbert still docile and bent over her desk. In her hands, Lefyser notes, hold a medium sleek, silver chain with a clip dangling at one end. The woman walks behind her, brushes some of her stray hair from Lefyser’s jugular. Dare she say a light caress would be mildly off-putting? She could feel the tip of this woman’s pointed fingernail lightly scratching against her skin. She hums and coos behind Lefyser. “How is my pet, Miss Lefyser?”

The woman comes to a stop on Lefyser’s other side, her sharp nails tenderly caress Elena’s soaking vulva. They prod mercilessly at the poor girl’s itty bits, causing a steady stream of juice snaking out as Gilbert’s body violently convulses a second time. Lefyser weakly manages, “She- She’s… perfect. Very responsive.”

“Lovely,” the woman murmurs pleasantly. She pets Gilbert’s ass. “Time to go.”

The chain chinks in her hands and Elena flinches at the sound. She whimpers, cowering from her weakened position. “Please, please don’t use it. I- I can’t.”

“Shh… yes, you can,” the woman coerces.

Gilbert drops to her knees, her hands grip the bottom of the woman’s skirt. Lefyser detects hysterical unhinged desperation. “Please. I’ll do anything… You can use any other toys on me, just not this one.”

The woman turns to Lefyser with a smile. “Miss Lefyser… if you would chaperone the excursion…”

Lefyser blinks in confusion. How does this entail an excursion?

The woman’s facial features blur in front of her like melted, dripping ice cream. Its exterior layer peels back to a more tan, gruff figure with a concerned expression, waving distractedly to catch her attention.

“Miss Lefyser? Miss Lefyser, are you okay?”

Her eyes blink multiple times as her limbs flex in shock. Alaric Saltzman stands just a few feet away, waving his hand awkwardly. Something feels heavy in her hands and in her confusion, she releases the offending object. It clatters to the floor in a cracking noise. It’s a mug. Her long-forgotten afternoon cup of the day sends the cold brown liquid sloshing all over the bottom of her skirt, her shoes, and the floor.

She stares at Saltzman rushing into action as he busies himself gathering paper towels from the pantry behind. He tears a whole lot of sheets and dumps them on top of the cluttered mess. Her hands shake and her voice quivers like grass in the wind. “Where am I? Is she still here?”

Saltzman’s in front of her again all of a sudden. He grabs onto her trembling hands and takes a few steps backward, urging her forward. He leads her to a worn grey couch. His eyes are kind and patient, as she unceremonially drops on the couch. “We’re in the breakroom. Who’s she?”

She calms for only a moment, taking in the brightly lit scenery. But it didn’t feel like a dream. She tells him so with flushed cheeks and sweaty hands gripping the couch cushions. “I had a dream. A most terrible dream. There was this woman telling me to do some terrible things. Oh my god, I can’t say it.” She stares at Saltzman, wide and unguarded. “If people find out, I lose everything. Oh my god, what have I done?”

Saltzman squints in confusion and then his face pales. “Do you remember this woman? What she looked like? Her name?”

Lefyser shakes her head in denial. “I- I can’t. It’s so hazy. Every time I try to focus, she just slips away.”

“I can’t help if you don’t give me anything,” he counter-argues.

“There have been more and more dreams recently… and she’s always inside every single one of them.” Her lips quiver as she confesses, “But you’ve gotta promise you won’t go telling them.”

Saltzman nods. “Tell me. I’ll try to help in whatever capacity-”

Her words exit in a rush as she stumbles over them, anxious to spill it all out. She trusts Saltzman over her other colleagues. And based on her ‘dreams’, some of them pop up with that woman in tow. “It’s the girl - the only constant. Elena Gilbert.”

Saltzman turns a shade whiter and he looks away, staring in the far distance. She scoffs internally. “You said you’d help me out-” She accuses. “I'm as good as dead if they find out. I can’t lose my job! I-”

“You need to go,” he interrupts.

“What?”

He turns back and his eyes, once kind and patient, have turned solemn and tired. His voice drops a decibel and Lefyser scrambles to catch up. He repeats, “You can’t stay here. You need to leave. Now. I’m not joking, Carla. Leave tonight. Just pack everything you can take with you. Start over fresh in another town or state.” He nods to himself. “Yes, better for you to move to another state.”

He rises from the couch and gestures for her to do so. Bewildered by the turn of events, she finds herself escorted out of the school and into her own Hyundai. He leaves her with a parting remark. “Don’t return to Mystic Falls ever if you want to live.”

She yells at him. “If I want to live? Are you fucking threatening me?!”

Saltzman just meets her head-on. “No, you don’t understand. I’ve been in your shoes. I know what it's like to have blackouts and funny dreams you claimed are just terrible dreams. Allow me to enlighten you, Carla. They aren’t dreams. They’re memories. You’ve been hypnotized. I don’t know who you met and frankly, I don’t care. I do know this. Even if you resign and still live here, in this town, you won’t be safe.”

She shakes her head in denial. “I’ve nowhere to go. I came here to start fresh,” she implores.

“You have to do it all over again. I’ll tell the others you’re feeling under the weather,” he reckons as her hand grips the steering wheel tight. He presses his hand over her shoulder for a long moment before he replies, “Just a warning... if you ever encounter Elena Gilbert… you’d run the other way. Don’t talk to her. Just run.”

“I- I don’t…”

This is frankly, getting weirder by the minute. But Saltzman has pulled his guard up completely. He is serious after the last instructions he’d given. He just turned and returned back to school.

What the fucking hell was that all about?

  
  



	2. Resurrection and lots of Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cold seeps away and warmth enters the void, like the brightness of a fresh page in the summer sun. The kind that brings a smile to Kol’s devious lips. He can’t wait to catch up on all those missed years he spent wasting away in a box.
> 
> “What. I don’t get a welcome wagon of fresh blood?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this chapter, our favorite Original's perspective was based on the aftermath of one of my old drabbles, "Till I Met Her." It's also intricately weaved into chapter 5 of the first installment series, if you're interested or have forgotten. Onwards, we go.

_The voices scream around them;_

_Yet there is no sound._

_They sob silently;_

_Forever hell-bound._

_Memories flash in their mind;_

_Broken films of happier times._

_They take a step into the dark;_

_Leaving behind a bleeding heart._

_They feel pain in their dreams;_

_Their voices are drowning;_

_The dark is devouring;_

_The silence can breathe._

_Eyes flutter in a dance;_

_They kept it in reach;_

_A key out of this place;_

_An infinite descent._

_~ Anonymous_

* * *

**?, Mystic Falls**

“Katerina, it’s been too long,” Kol mumbles through the thick murky swirl of sleep and wakefulness. 

“How much are you susceptible to shock factor?” 

Soft. Silvery. Female. Asian accent. Definitely not Katerina but vaguely familiar -- not familiar enough to place immediately; Kol searches through his database of contacts in his mind to find the match. Before he can complete his search, the woman pushes the hood back. 

The hair is now medium-length, milk chocolate brown with a tinge of bright copper highlights, but the face is recognizable. It’s identical to the one he’d met centuries ago. A woman stuck in a teenager’s body. Never one to be susceptible to shock factor, Kol has to admit this one nearly takes the cake.

“Annabelle Zhu. How long has it been?” His throat croaks like a dry amphibian who spent too much time in a desert.

“Less than a century, really. I’m a bit disappointed now,” Annabelle scrunches her face, fingers playing idly with the white oak ash dagger hilt. “It’s Wednesday, today. 20th May 2009. We’re nearing the end of spring and into the sweaty hot summer. Bummer, I was hoping to find your coffin like last year.”

Her face swims out of his bleary view and he faintly hears her rummaging something against a fabric material and the odd chinking noise hitting against something solid repeatedly. “I never had to back-track so much, trying to find your body. Luckily, Klaus was a bit preoccupied with handling his affairs. Had to find the witch he used to cast a cloaking spell though. He was in Cairo, can you believe it? I still find sand caked on my bracelets. It’s been weeks and I’ve scrubbed them clean. They’re still there.”

He hears a faint snipping, followed by a faint whiff of copper wafting within the enclosed space. He wets his lips and the urge to drink dominates his thoughts. All Kol can think of was the sensation of sinking his fangs into delicate warm flesh and sucking until there’s nothing left. The intensity of the sensation is so unbearable that he initially fails to register the silicone plastic until his fangs tear through the material. The lukewarm liquid leaks around his teeth and gushes down his throat. His hands squeeze the packet in less than a minute before he crumples it into a ball, tossing it out. Three more blood bags are thrown into his coffin and Kol tears into them with a snarl.

He feels alive once more. 

The cold seeps away and warmth enters the void, like the brightness of a fresh page in the summer sun. The kind that brings a smile to Kol’s devious lips. He can’t wait to catch up on all those missed years he spent wasting away in a box. He can feel Annabelle watching him warily. Sensing her trepidation, Kol pouts, “What. I don’t get a welcome wagon of fresh blood?”

He grins when she rolls her eyes as she pulls out a dark, foldable garment cloth storage bag before handing it over.

“This town knows of our species and kidnapping a couple will raise alarms,” Annabelle snorts. “Go change. Clock’s ticking.”

Kol makes a disgruntled noise. “Aren’t you impatient as ever. I thought living through centuries would instill some patience in you. Where is mother dearest?”

He unbuttons in front of her, causing her to huff as she sharply pivots around. “She’s in Venice, charming hapless half-wits for companionship.”

He shoves his trousers down to his ankles, somewhat amused by her reaction. “I thought she has you for that.”

Annabelle clears her throat, turning slightly to peek over her shoulder. Her hand goes up automatically to block her line of sight. “You done yet?”

“Nope.”

“Well, hurry the fuck up,” she snaps. “It won’t be long before somebody, undoubtedly Elijah, hears about how a mover’s truck suddenly appears parked alongside the curb in a bustling neighborhood. I don’t want to be here when he does.”

“Oh all right, I’m done. You can turn around,” Kol comments while pulling on a light blazer. “Elijah, forever playing the loyal foot soldier. Where is Katerina?”

“Newsflash, Klaus is currently indisposed, courtesy of Elijah. His right-hand.”

“And Katerina? Is she-” Kol pins Annabelle against the cold metal container wall in a blur. 

“She’s alive. They broke the curse with her human doppelganger’s blood a few days ago. I don’t have the full details. You have to ask her yourself. We haven’t been in contact.”

Kol releases Annabelle, turning away with a half-wry chuckle. “She’s alive,” he repeats in disbelief. “Devil’s luck indeed. Do you know where she is now? No matter, I can find a witch for that.”

“I thought she had anti-location spells on her,” Annabelle steps away from the slightly dented wall. She closes the coffin lid shut before heading towards the shutter exit.

He waves her assumption away. “She does but we’re not going to track her using blood magic.”

He looks up to a frowning Annabelle who has hopped down from the cool compartment and into the sunshine of a bright afternoon. He rechecks the silver ring on his finger, smooths the front of his jacket, and jumps down. In front of them spots another white truck with bustling humans loading up empty trolleys filled with glinting trays and large beer tanks. They form a single line as they roll their products into a full household in an orderly fashion. 

“What do we have here?” Kol stares at the promotional banner signage ‘Tasty Delights - 100% Satisfaction’. He smacks his lips together and rubs his hands with a gleeful expression. “Now this is what I call a welcome party wagon, darling.” He turns around to a speechless Annabelle and snakes his arm deftly between hers. He half-escorts and partially drags her into the open backyard which leads to a beautiful garden filled with pristine plastic chairs and fanciful tablecloths draping each table.

Kol continues, “You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble of creating a lovely surprise, but I’m honored and grateful as always.”

“But I didn’t-”

He knows she hasn’t. The catering service truck parked behind Klaus’s trailer is most probably a coincidence and… _Opportunity favors the bold._

Kol shushes her protests and hustles her into an empty table; he proceeds to pull a chair out for her, forcing her to sit. Eagerly, he pushes her into the tiny cramped space he has made. He makes no notion of grabbing the next chair. Instead, Kol bends slightly forward to whisper in her ear, “Sit tight and I’ll grab us some refreshments.”

As soon as he reaches the top step of the back porch and is invited in, he hears Annabelle’s disgruntled voice amidst the loud oblivious chatter. “Do me a favor please. Don’t turn this into a massacre, Kol.”

_Oh darling, I can be discrete._

He half-expects Katerina to grace him with her magnetic presence, a bloodied wine glass in hand, as she saunters around an oblivious group of guests. They could continue their misadventures like they did in different parts of Europe. However, little Annabelle shows promise and given time, she could be his next charming acquaintance.

Kol grabs a flute of sparkling champagne and downs in one gulp. He sets his empty flute on the next silver tray carried by a waiter. He meanders deeper into the center of the house, looking past the two long table tops layered with trays of the most delicious food and drinks, delicacies capable of making one’s mouth water: lemon tarts, rhubarb crème brûlée, orange blossom cakes, minted strawberries fresh from the garden, meringues so beautifully shaped that it was a pity to eat them, and apple strudels served with ice-cream. Drinks for the children range from orange juice to candy apple punch, whereas the grown-ups socialize around a waterfall wine chiller and champagne fountain that sparkled with blue flames.

_Oh this is heaven._

He’s over there in less than a minute, reaching over to pop a minted strawberry into his mouth. He nearly groans aloud, knees almost buckling by the savoury flavors bursting in his mouth. He grabs a couple more, forgoing the silver tongs and a paper plate. He does the same to the other desserts despite the increasing number of long side-eye rolling and distasteful comments on his etiquette.

It’s only when he has shaken off the remnant crumbs of his fourth tart that Kol notices a blonde teen has stepped into his personal space. The other guests have given him a wide berth but not her. Her luscious wavy locks dangle around the curvature of her cheekbones, her beautifully healthy skin exposes her jugular and Kol inches a little nearer to her neck. She seems unaware of her surroundings as she piles on a generous serving of desserts onto the mini paper plate using the caterer’s silver serving spoon. Kol breathes in her scent which smells nothing like most of the party goers, who have doused themselves with strong cologne and flowery scented perfume. 

Her scent has the lightest scent of all; she smells heavenly, like fresh-scented pine and honey. There is a whiff of a very familiar aroma Kol remembers - one of Katerina’s favorites - an outlandish aroma of charcoal flames and cinnamon. He first smelt it near the entrance that has him wondering if the elusive Katerina was nearby.

“You should try the macaroons,” Kol suggests.

The blonde hums in agreement and piles two exquisite pieces on top of a small mountain. She tucks a paper serviette underneath the overloaded plate and takes a clear plastic fork, placing in between the desserts. She turns towards Kol and offers him the small mountain of goodies with a friendly smile and twinkling blue-green pair of eyes. The blonde nudges the plate towards him a little more insistently. “Here, take it. I know they’re delicious, but try to leave some room for the main attraction. I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you new to town?”

Kol graciously accepts with an embarrassed chuckle, picking up the fork to stab into a mini layered slice. He stuffs a large slice into his mouth in response. “Puf you bopitful.”

His saviour comes in the form of petite Annabelle whisking into the same berth of space. She breezes in, one hand daintily holding a glass of fruit punch while the other shamelessly steals one of the creme brulee off his plate.

Annabelle plants herself slightly in front of him. She pats the front of his shirt with an exasperated sigh. He knows well enough that she’s over-exaggerating her actions which greatly amuses him. The blonde recognizes her though.

“Anna! I thought you left town.”

“Uhh yeah. I did. Leave town but I’m - we’re just passing by.”

The blonde teen who looks physically older than Annabelle, is wearing a short floral dress and black heeled sandals. Her eyes dart sharply back at him and her finger points between the two of them. “Are you two…”

“No!”

“What? No way.”

“She’s uhh- a lovely associate-”

“Cousin. Unrelated by blood, obviously. Distant cousin.”

“I’m Kol. Kol-”

“Hanson,” Annabelle finishes. “Kol Hanson. Very distant cousin and family friend.”

Right. Introducing himself as a Mikaelson in Mystic Falls isn’t best if dear Elijah is still in town. The blonde nods and smiles at them as Annabelle continues to bluster with more inane small talk. Out of the corner of his eye, one of the bridesmaids catches his eye - a pretty redhead. She’s going to be a delectable treat Kol looks forward to when they’re done with pleasantries.

As his senses focus on the redhead’s sweet, honey roll-like aroma, Kol begins to notice there’s a particular oddity to the blonde teenager standing before them. She’s lacking a beating heart. Her blood, while inviting, doesn’t pose the same allure as the humans in this room.

He tunes back into the conversation just in time to catch her parting remarks, something about “visiting Jeremy Gilbert.” He watches her leave and as she walks away, her ponytail swings like a metronome in perfect counterpoint to the roll of her buttocks.

“She looks like a tasty treat, that one. You seem to know her very well.”

Annabelle turns, shrugs, and casually steals another mini cake off his plate. “That’s Caroline Forbes, one of the Founding families of Mystic Falls boring-ass town. Can we leave now?”

Kol scratches the underside of his chin. “Not quite. I want seconds and I don’t mean cake.”

“So how does a founding descendent manage to escape the locals she’s a vampire? How many more are they?”

Annabelle licks leftover syrup from her fingers. “Just a few. There are the Salvatore brothers Katerina turned in 1864. One’s a renowned douche and the other is pretty infamous around here. Made quite a history. I think you can relate to him better.”

“Is he as handsome as me?”

Annabelle rolls her eyes in response. “You’re both Rippers.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“You’ve been asleep,” Annabelle dead-pans. She turns towards the open dance floor where a flutter of activity has increased since the small interlude. “Which one are you looking at?”

“All of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I changed a shit load of my original plot and decided ever since Katherine went off to once again kidnap Elena, someone else had to go in to replace Katherine. Anna was picked being the most obvious choice as she, Pearl, and Lucy Bennett are staunch Katherine allies. Anna & Pearl were never killed off by John Gilbert. They both left town right after Anna freed her mother from the tomb, as mentioned in All About Us. It's going to be a refreshing pairing to write for. I haven't quite decided the endgame pairing for Kol yet. Oh, and if you happen to come across any Kol x Anna media fan vids or gif sets, be a dear and send me the link(s)!!
> 
> Let me know in the comments on what you think!! Adios~

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment. I love to hear what you think... Tell me if this is a bad idea or not.


End file.
